


Something New

by Tralfamadorian09



Category: Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-01 08:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13994475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tralfamadorian09/pseuds/Tralfamadorian09
Summary: Tony gets to meet someone and have a mostly healthy relationship. Not much more to it…





	1. Chapter 1

It became convenient to hide away. It was never really a conscious choice on her part, but she ended up so well hidden that no one could find her, no one could see her. And it seemed so much easier to accept things as they were. Rocking the boat was never her forte, not even before. So, she continued with the way things were, and she was content. 

She had been working at Hammer Industries for the past three year. She cleaned sectors C, D, and F. It was an easy job. Quiet. Isolated. A dream job, really. 

Of course, it couldn’t last. 

It had been like any other night. The low hum of the machines around her had become familiar and comfortable. The heat that they emitted made even the coldest New York winters feel cozy in the large warehouse.   
She usually started in sector F, since it took the longest. It was designated as the office space, with small rooms filled with desks and computers. She had her rhythm down perfectly. Pick up trash, dust, and wipe. And on it went. 

Today, she had opted to listen to some music. Other days she would let the silence engulf her, but today, she needed some noise. Her last chapter had not gone the way she wanted. Instead, of letting her frustration simmer in silence, she thought to get lost in a little bit of noise. But like many other nights, even the noise couldn’t drown out her thoughts completely. 

This was why this life suited her. While she cleaned, her mind wandered. She explored worlds that stemmed mostly from her own imagination, and occasionally the last book she had read. She fell in love countless times, was broken, was abandoned, and was saved just as many times. The stories formed in her mind, one small image at a time. The world around her became just another place. 

She had moved on to sector D. This was where the majority of the internal servers were located. She mostly dusted there. It wouldn’t be good to get any water on the equipment. It was loudest there, so she took out her earbuds. 

It was also hottest in that particular room, and she could already feel the sweat forming on her forehead. She always wore a tank top for this particular room. She took of her shirt off and started on the furthest server. It was larger than she, so she worked on for the edges and small air vents that would allow for the machines to breath. She saved the dusting for the top to once a month. And although it was only dusting, it took the majority of her night, since the room was long and filled. 

She found the man 4 rows in. He had a computer plugged into one of the machines and seemed to be typing faster with one hand than she did with both. He had black hair that was a little wild due, probably, to the heat. He was muttering at the computer in his hand, but didn’t slow the other hands progression across the keyboard. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice was slightly louder than the machines, but it still caused the man to jerk his head in surprise. He turned towards her and she noticed his facial hair. Well, everyone had to have their hobby, she thought, there was no reason to judge a bit of eccentricity. Yet, a niggling thought pressed against her head, hadn’t she seen him somewhere?

“Is it okay if I work around you, or should I come back?” She asked. 

“No please.” He gestured around him. He took a moment to let his eyes follow down her form. A bit of a pig, she thought, but a handsome one. She allowed herself a little smile at the harmless gaze and started on the first server. Soon, the repetitive motion allowed for her mind to drift. She was at the point where her heroine was getting ready to face her first zombie, when she happened to catch him from the corner of her eye. 

He was looking at her with his red tinged glasses almost falling off. His fingers were still typing on the laptop that he was holding, one hand flying across the keyboard, while the other held the computer. But his attention was firmly on her, his gaze intense. She looked down, just to make sure that she was still wearing clothes. Yup, she was still fully clothed. She leaned against the server, her left her hand on her hip.

When he eventually looked up, she gave him a deadpan stare. Instead of looking away in embarrassment, he gave her a confident smile. His warm brown eyes seemed to spark with a hint of mischief. She couldn’t help but find it slightly endearing. There was nothing threatening about him to her.

“Would you like to take a picture?” She asked, but there was no real venom in her voice. 

He perked up and his smile grew. “Can I?”

The whole situation felt too lighthearted for her to be angry at him.

“Maybe tomorrow.” She laughed. She moved to the next row of servers and lost sight of him. 

*

The next night, she entered sector D, anticipating that he wasn’t going to be there. She could count on one hand the amount of people she’d met during her shift, and that was perfectly fine with her. She didn’t have the confidence or grace to deal with people all the time. 

She still couldn’t stop from herself from glancing into the fourth row to see if he was there. He wasn’t. The sharp sting of disappointment shocked her for a moment, she couldn’t remember the last time that a person had made such an impact on her. It wasn’t simply because of his handsome smile and light flirtation. It was his eyes. They reminded her of her father. The warm brown inviting, lighting up in good humor. 

She shook her head and started on the first server. She let herself have one final yearning thought of him and she went back to her story. Zombies, they were always safer than reality. 

*

Her official lunch started at midnight, but she usually didn’t take it until closer to 2am. The first two sectors always took a while, and she didn’t like to leave a job half finished. Tonight she had made some stuffed peppers, and the aroma of them warming in the microwave filled the small breakroom. Her heroine had encountered another woman in her desolate world; she was afraid that this new person could not be trusted. But Anaar already knew that this knew friend would be one that would stick by her heroine until the end. They would be a family. 

The dink of the microwave signaled the finish of her peppers. Anaar stood by the counter, staring at the blinking lights. Maybe her two girls could encounter a countdown… but to what? She shook herself out of her thoughts and took the meal out and placed it on the small table. 

Anaar looked around the bare room. As far as break rooms go, it was more inviting than the last one she had… a million or so years ago. She felt more at home in this quiet and solitude than she had in any other profession. The image of his smile entered her mind. She wondered what he was doing. Maybe she could focus on a romance next. Make her hero dark haired, with warm brown eyes, and a mischievous smile. 

*

The final sector C was a large section of the warehouse. Completely bare now. At one time it had housed a dozen robots, larger than her. Crates used to fill it; most of them filled with technology that was worth more than 20 of her. But now, it was barred and required mopping every day. 

She usually started in the far corner and worked her way towards the large exit doors. They must have used this sector for experimentation because the floors always seemed to be dirty. She finished the room a half an hour before her shift was to officially end. At 5am, she exited the large warehouse and watched as the top of the sun emerged over the horizon. She loved this moment the most. 

*

The weekend found her in her apartment. Her eyes glazed and fingers busy forming her world. She made enough meals to last her the week. She watched one movie at 2am at an ancient theater that still remained open, although she suspected that it was meant to be shut down decades ago. The movie was in black and white and in a foreign language. She couldn’t remember what it was about, or who was in it. Mostly she imagined that she was dancing in that large house on the screen in front of her. 

*

Sunday night she woke up at 6pm. She had to be at the warehouse at 8pm. She ate a light breakfast of corn flakes and an apple. She had finally gotten to the point in her story where her heroine and new friend were encountering a hoard of zombies. This is where their true friendship would be established. Anaar wondered what the friend could do to show her heroine that she could be trusted. 

She played loud music on her way to work. The bass made her car vibrate. Buildings and cars blurred into background colors without shape or substance. 

*

The low hum of machines busy at work greeted her at Sector D. Today, Anaar would finish her heroine’s journey… and maybe even figure out a name for her. Something soft sounding. Maybe Jane, or Molly. 

“No tank top today?” A disappointed voice asked her. She turned around and saw him. He was sitting on the floor, his laptop rested on his folded knees. She saw that his hair was slightly wet, he must have been in the server room some time. 

“Forgot to do laundry.” She hadn’t really forgotten. She just had not wanted to do it. “But I see that you’re wearing one.”

“Yeah, you like it? I can take it off if you don’t.” He started to lift the dark tank top an inch. Anaar admired the flex of his arms in motion. 

“No. It looks great.” She smiled down at him. His eyes dance with laughter. 

“Well… if you’re sure.” He hummed, but his smile never wavered. 

“So, tell me. What are you doing here this late at night?” She asked him as she started on the first server. 

“Stuff.” The short reply made her frown. He must have sensed her pulling back because he elaborated. “I’m just making sure that all the data that was borrowed form Stark Tech is returned.”

“Oh, okay.” Anaar had heard of the company, but she was under the impression that Stark Inc. was not related to Hammer Industries. 

“What about you?” He asked. She noticed that he had not looked at his laptop. 

“I just love to spend all my nights dusting.” She teased. 

“I can’t blame you. Hey, wait!” He jumped up when she moved to the next row of servers. 

“Shouldn’t you get back to work?” She asked him as she continued her diligent work. 

“I like how you do that.” He said and pointed at her duster, ignoring her questions. “You’re careful.” 

Anaar looked at her duster and back at him. He had a small, shy smile. The confidence of earlier absent. 

“Thanks.” She gave him back her own shy smile and continued her work. She waited while he figured out what to say next and almost laughed out loud. She was thirty two and still playing games with a boy she liked. Not that he was much of a boy, she observed. His head was lowered and his hands were shoved into his jean pockets. He raised his head. My, what expressive eyes he had.

“What’s your name?” She asked him. The question seemed to have surprised him because he looked at her suspiciously. 

“Bruce.” A small mocking smile flashed across his face, and Anaar was amazed at how quickly he changed personalities. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Bruce.” She said and watched as his smile faltered and a confusion took over. 

He seemed to shake himself out of his stupor. “What’s your name?”

“Anaar.” She said and waited for him to butcher her name. 

“Anaar.” He repeated, and she was shocked at his ability to get it right. He even created the slight purr at the end of her name as was needed. Her shocked expression made him grin back at her smugly. She stepped around him to the next row. 

“So?” He followed behind her. 

“So.” Anaar echoed. She continued her task and watched out of the corner of her eye as he fidgeted. Bruce was filled with erratic energy. She watched as he looked at his hands, his fingers moving like they were creating something only he could see. There was dirt under his fingernails. 

She turned towards him. He finally lifted his eyes, his gaze faraway. He focused on her and gave her another cocky smile. “Are you going to make me beg?”

She shook her head. “You haven’t even asked.” 

The cocky smile slipped. “Can I take you out dinner some time?” He asked, this time a more genuine smile appeared on his face. 

“No. I’m awake when most places are closed.” She said. He perked up, like he had a solution, but Anaar had already made up her mind. “Why don’t you come to my place? I’ll cook.” 

It had been such a long time since she’d felt this kind of an attraction. She couldn’t say if she’d ever felt anything like this; he made her stomach clench with instant want. 

“Your place?” He cocked his eyebrow in question. 

“Yes, my place.” She answered. 

“Should I bring anything?” He moved towards her unconsciously. His head lowered until they were only a few inches apart. 

“No.” She whispered. “I’ll have everything we’ll need.” 

His smile matched her own.


	2. Chapter 2

They decided on Friday night. Well, she decided and he agreed. Anaar contemplated whether or not it was a good idea to invite a total stranger to her home, but there was something so open and honest about him, it felt right. More importantly, it had been six long years of a dry spell and Bruce was extremely attractive. 

She decided on a simple dish of steak. It was one meal she never worried about getting wrong. The radio was playing softly in the background while she worked. The only window in her kitchen was open and the small breeze that wafted in brought with it the scent of hot concrete.

She had never really enjoyed New York. It was the place she ended up at because this was where her parents settled. There was a time that she wondered about moving somewhere south; where she never had to worry about ice and snow. But that dream ended when her parents left. It was fine – she had to tell herself – life had a way of creeping up on everyone, and it had been such a long time since those dreams seemed within grasp. Her small apartment was far enough away from the noise of humanity, she could sometimes fool herself into thinking that she was somewhere else. 

She was in the middle of slicing a potato when she heard the knock at her door. She washed her hands at the sink and walked over to her front door. She looked through the peephole and saw Bruce’s profile. 

“You’re early.” She said as she opened the door. 

He instantly turned towards her and gave her a large smile. “You said six, right?” He looked down at his watch.

“It’s seven, so technically I’m an hour late.” His eyes danced with that barely concealed mischief that she had come to associate with him. They darted over her form, while his playful lips quirked up. His whole body hummed with energy and she wondered if he was ever still. 

“I said eight.” Anaar smiled. “It’s okay, you can help.” She opened the door wider to allow him in. He walked in, and with flourish, moved his hand from behind his back and presented her with the most beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Anaar was left gaping at the beautiful display. She had been surprised that he had put in the effort. But, again, it had been a while since she had dated. She took the flowers form him and gave him a sweet smile. 

“Thank you, Bruce.” She said and watched as his smile faltered. He recovered quickly and closed the door behind him. He followed behind her as she moved to her small kitchen. She opened one of the cupboards and found a vase that wouldn’t do the flowers justice, but it was all she had. She carefully cut off the bottom of each flower stem and arranged them in the vase. The radio was playing a favorite song of hers, so she hummed along with the tune. 

She turned to give him another smile for the wonderful gift and found him looking at her intently. His eyes were soft and he was focused on her hands. He noticed that she was looking at him and pushed himself from the counter he was leaning against and walked towards her. Her kitchen was bathed in reds and golds as the Sun set – the colors played on his skin and made his brown eyes shine. 

His walk was slow and cautious, but she knew that if she waited patiently he would reward her. He leaned towards her, and watched her eyes for permission. She decided to make it easy for him and pushed up to meet his lips. His lips were soft. His beard scratched at her lower chin and she found herself really liking the contrast. Both applied the barest amount of pressure, they were content with the gentle touch. 

Anaar pulled away from him and nodded to the counter. “Get to work.” He turned his head in the direction she had indicated and chuckled when he saw the half-finished potatoes. 

He turned back toward her, his smile making her feel light. “Yes ma’am.” 

He went towards the counter and picked up a knife. “So how do you want me to do this? Slice, dice, star shape?”

“Lemniscate, please.” She grinned. 

His eyes narrowed at her, but a smirk creeped across his face. “Alright.” He washed his hands at the sink and moved to allow her some space next to him. 

He started on the potatoes, while she worked on their salad. The kitchen darkened as the last rays of sunlight filtered away. Anaar switched the overhead light on and went back to cutting. Noises from the distance entered her open window and she realized that she had once again forgotten about the constant life that surrounded her. How easy it was to forget the rest of the world when she was in her own little bubble. 

She turned towards him and noticed that he was deeply concentrating on his task. When she glanced down at the potatoes, she saw perfect slices of the infinite sign laying on the carving board. 

She burst into laughter. He glanced back at her. She bumped her hip against his. “Smartass.”

“You said lemniscate!” 

She simply shook her head and went back to cutting the cucumber in front of her. He moved closer to her and she felt the pressure of his body next to hers. The heat of his body was comforting, yet also exciting. The smell of his cologne was subtle, it made her want to lean in further to get a stronger whiff. She noticed that there was dirt below his fingernail. No, not dirt, something tougher, something that he couldn’t remove. His hand had small cuts on them; there were larger scars on his forearm. 

They finished all the prep and Anaar put in the potatoes to bake. “We have about 40 minutes before everything is done.” She straightened. “It would have been ready by the time you were supposed to be here, but someone didn’t bother listening to me.” She tilted her head at him. 

“I was listening. Just wasn’t hearing…” He trailed off. He must have realized that his confession didn’t sound much better. 

Anaar reached for his hand and traced an angry looking scar that spanned from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. “How did this happen?”

“Tech malfunction.” His head was lowered and he was paying attention to her face more than he was to the scar she was tracing. “It would have either worked perfectly or sliced my hand open… a little.” 

“A little?” She eyed the large scar. 

“A little.” He stated confidently. “There was also the possibility of it blowing up completely, but that was a small possibility.” 

She gaped at him, her mind trying to make sense of everything that he was saying. “What do you mean by explosion? Like a fourth graders volcano kind of explosion, or the kind that could possibly result in death?” She tightened her grip on him.

“Umm…” He rocked on the ball of his heel and gave her a charming smile. “Can I opt out of answering?” 

Anaar sighed. She moved his hand to rest on her hip. He leaned towards her and wrapped his other arm around her so that he was hugging her close to him. She cupped his head in her hands and caressed his cheeks with her thumb. “Bruce,” she whispered. 

He swallowed slowly. “Tony. It’s Tony.”

“What?” She asked in confusion.

“My name.” He said cautiously. “It’s Tony.”

Anaar dropped her hands and looked at him with bewilderment. “Why did you give me a fake name?” She asked.   
“I thought you knew who I was.” He said with a small shrug.

Her face scrunched up in thought. “Are you someone I should know?” She genuinely wanted to know because there was something about him that felt extremely familiar. 

“No.” He said. “But you will.” He pulled her closer until she was flush against him. Anaar rested her head on his shoulders and gave his neck a small kiss. She started to sway and felt him move with her. 

“Why would you do something that could hurt you?” She asked she swayed in his arms. 

He sighed, his breath moving strands on top of her head. “If I don’t try, then nothing changes. I always have to try.” 

“What if it hadn’t been just a slice on your arm?” She whispered against his neck. He stayed quiet. Her small kitchen started to fill with the aroma of their dinner. The radio still played softly in the background. The kitchen was hot from the oven and the heat of the afternoon. She felt him rest his head on top of hers. She buried further into his neck, his scent enveloping her. 

“You make me so nervous.” He said against her hair. “I can’t remember ever feeling like this before.”

“Me too.” She mumbled. 

She drew him in closer like she was trying to burrow herself into him. His chest felt uncomfortable against her breasts, and she wondered what he was hiding under his shirt. She pulled away from him and rested her hand in the middle of his chest where the hardness protruded slightly. She patted the area on his chest, but the hardness still made no sense. 

She looked at him questioningly, but he only raised an eyebrow in amusement. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from her, she could tell that much. It was almost like he was daring her. 

She moved the hem of his soft shirt up his torso, taking the time to run her hands over his stomach and sides. She couldn’t help the small smile at his surprised giggle; it was so carefree and young sounding that she was instantly proud of herself. The track from his stomach to his chest made her heart race. 

He was warm and tight everywhere she touched. He hands stroked across her back, exploring her in return. His gaze didn’t leave hers as she touched him. There was something rather intimate about the simple touch; it had a familiarity that she had never felt with anyone before. 

“I know you.” She whispered. Tony recognized she wasn’t talking about knowing his name. She knew him the same way that he felt he knew her. Like they had been waiting to see the other in an ocean of strangers. 

“I know you too.” He told her and watched as her eyes softened and her smile stretched in understanding. She leaned towards him and he met her half way in another tender kiss. He had never kissed a person with such reverence. All kisses before had been a way to satisfy something base, something that had left him forgetting the person and the lips. But not this. He would remember the way she looked up at him after they parted until his last day. 

The spell was abruptly broken as he watched her freeze. Anaar lowered her eyes and saw the exposed glowing triangle of his arc reactor. He gulped in worry. The few moments when he was fully aware that she had no idea who he was or what he was capable of, where the most liberating moments of his life. And now it would end.   
Her burst of laughter seemed to mock his worries. 

*

For a few minutes there was nothing to be heard, but the clinking of their knives and forks against the plates. Her kitchen table was tiny, it barely fit the two plates and glasses of water. But the small space allowed for his long legs to sit on either side of hers. He had never been much of a touching kind of person, but here it seemed natural and effortless. 

Anaar laughed quietly to herself. “You know, sometimes I think I’m a fairly intelligent person. But then something like this happens and I realize how much of an idiot I truly am.”

“Well, you’re pretty so it evens out.” He replied cheekily. “But, seriously, I get it. I design these shirt to specifically hide the glow of the arc reactor. Without it, I don’t seem much like Iron Man.”

Anaar shook her head. “I wasn’t talking about Iron Man, I was talking about Tony Stark.” She gave another self-deprecating laugh. “I had literally watched something about Tony Start just a few days ago.”

“What was it about?” He asked. 

She froze and Tony couldn’t help but laugh at her expression. “You don’t find me interesting?” He asked incredulously. 

“No, of course I do.” She said unconvincingly. He laughed harder, while she smirked at his direction. 

Tony had never laughed at himself so much. He could fully admit that he was a bit of a narcissist; he felt that it was deserved after everything he had created. And, with so many years of his father’s criticism, he might have been overcompensating with a healthier sense of self-worth.

“You have no idea, do you?” He asked. 

“Well, they had encountered their first hoard…” Anaar’s eyes drifted as she seemed to get lost in thought. “It was the climax.”

“Climax?” Tony was enjoying the conversation, even as Anaar’s eyes widened. 

She looked away from him, a shy smile crossing her lips. She looked back at him again, leaned in and he instinctively mimicked her movement. “I write,” She whispered, like she was telling him a secret. “A little.”

They were so close to each other that he could feel the barest trace of her breath against his lips. Her eyes were wide and pleading. She was waiting for a negative reaction from him. Maybe a laugh or shock. She had held this secret close to her for a while, he could tell, and now she trusted him with it. 

He reached out to her hands and clasped them between the two of them. “What do you write about?”

“Whatever strikes my fancy.” He thought her eyes were black, but the longer he looked into them, the more he could see the dark brown flecks that floated in her irises. The depth of her eyes were subtle, much like the rest of her. He wondered what new thing he would discover about her next. 

“You said a hoard. A hoard of what?” He asked. 

“Zombies!” Her enthusiasm made her jump slightly in her chair.

“You’re a fan then?” Tony chuckled. 

“I wouldn’t say I was a fan… It’s more that I have a healthy obsession.” She countered. She let go of his hands and went back to her meal.

“Is there such a thing as a healthy obsession?” Tony wondered out loud. 

“Aren’t you known for going days without sleep until you finish your new projects?” Anaar asked him. 

“So you were paying attention!” He grinned at her.

Anaar laughed at the absurdity of their conversation. She had forgotten how rewarding it could be to talk to another person. She sometimes got a little too lost in the fantasy of her made up world. She became so invested in the lives of fictional people that she neglected everything else. Tony felt like a brand new adventure. Her stomach fluttered in excitement every time he looked at her. 

They finished their meal and lapsed into a comfortable silence. Anaar watched as Tony looked around her apartment. His eyes taking in every detail of her life. She wondered how it looked to him. 

“Dessert?” He wasn’t even looking at her, still too busy cataloging everything around him. His focus shifted back to her as she rose and picked up their plates.

“You sound like such an American.” She moved to the sink and put the dirty plates and ran water over them. 

“Because dessert?” He asked as he opened the dishwasher next to her. She handed him a plate and watched as he did a terrible job placing it the racks. She handed him the next plate, fascinated by his lack of any kind of order. 

“Dessert is the hallmark of any meal. You have dinner just so you can have dessert.”

“Fine. You’re lucky your fancy hair makes me want to do things to you.” Anaar grinned and moved to the freezer to take out a pint of ice-cream. 

“You think I have fancy hair?” Tony ran his fingers through said hair, his countenance smug. 

“And a cute butt.” She threw the ice-cream at him and moved to the living room. She sat on the couch and picked up the book waiting for her on the table. It was a trashy romance that had caught her eye while she was shopping for groceries. She found some of the greatest inspiration at the checkout counter of her grocery store. 

“Wait. Did you say “to me” or “for me”?” He asked. The spoon of ice-cream was soon in his mouth. He collapsed next to her, his legs widening and pressing against hers. 

Anaar didn’t answer him, as she had already gotten engrossed in her book. Tony looked at her as he scooped up his ice-cream. The flavor was fruity and not overly sweet - slightly exotic tasting. 

Her face was set into a mask of contentment. She usually looks like this – at peace with the world. In Tony’s world, everything is always moving. There is noise and action, and it never seems to stop. 

He had always been too afraid to ask for a break. Everyone had expectation. Deadlines needed to be met and he never trusted anyone but himself to get things done the way they needed to be done. 

But here, with her and her quiet apartment, the radio still playing in the kitchen, Tony was completely still… and content. Happy. His fingers still tapped against his stomach while he read beside her. His hands were always searching for something to do. Today, he let them sit idle. 

“It’s pretty good.” He said around the spoon. The words came out garbled. 

“I don’t know about that. The position seems slightly impossible from the description.” Anaar looked up from her book. 

“Yeah, not talking about the blond hulk romancing the ‘supple flash of Catherine’s bosom.’” He offered her the spoon. She put the book aside and had a taste. 

“It’s Sheer Yakh.” She said. 

“I’ve heard that name somewhere before.” He put the ice-cream and spoon on her coffee table. 

Anaar gave him a searching look, worried whether or not she should share with him now that she knew who he was. But she had never been one to shy away from the truth. 

“It’s ice-cream form Afghanistan.” Where he had been kept for three months and his chest hollowed out. “I was born there. I’m Afghan.”


End file.
